Chapter 17: Party Invite

Ethan stared at his phone screen, Caleb's text glowing in the dim dorm light. Your call. No pressure. Library public space if yes. His thumb hovered over reply, heart still racing from the coffee shop confession and the latest project brush that had left his skin tingling for hours. Friends asleep, no one to consult. Deadline Monday. Alone with the choice.

He typed before overthinking could stop him.

Ethan: Fine. Tomorrow 2pm. Public table. Project only. No personal talk.

Sent.

Regret hit instantly, but a strange thrill followed curiosity, maybe, or the dangerous pull he kept denying. He powered off his phone, rolled over, and tried to sleep. Dreams came fast: library tables turning into starry fields, Caleb close, fingers brushing deliberately this time, voice whispering truths Ethan wasn't ready to hear.

Morning arrived gray and cold. Ethan dragged himself through classes, mind elsewhere. Therapy slot canceled due to Dr. Ramirez's emergency, leaving him without anchor. He texted the group chat.

Ethan: Agreed to meet Caleb tomorrow for project. Sarah/Malik out. Just us. Public library.

Alex: WHAT. Backup plan activated. I can "study" nearby.

Mia: Take pepper spray. Kidding. But text location. We'll hover if needed.

Jordan: Breathe. Boundaries first.

Ethan arrived at the library early Saturday, claiming a central table on the main floor—glass walls, constant foot traffic, maximum visibility. He spread out notes, laptop open, breathing exercises on loop.

2:00 sharp, Caleb appeared. Hoodie, backpack, expression neutral. He nodded politely, sat opposite with space between.

"Hi," Caleb said simply. "Thanks for agreeing."

"Deadline," Ethan replied curtly. "Let's start."

They dove in. Sarah's crashed files needed rebuilding. Malik's data scattered. Ethan led, voice steady despite racing pulse. Caleb matched pace, contributions sharp, deferring on decisions. Professional. Focused.

But proximity amplified everything. Caleb's scent—clean soap, faint cologne—drifted across table. Accidental foot nudge under table. Both froze, then shifted. Spark jumped again, hotter.

An hour in, outline rebuilt. Ethan leaned back. "That covers it. We can email rest."

Caleb nodded. "Good work."

Silence fell. Neither moved to pack.

Then Caleb spoke quietly. "There's an alliance party tonight. Fall mixer. I... got invited. Thought you might be going."

Ethan stiffened. "How do you know about it?"

"Friend from gym mentioned. Said it's open. I wasn't going to crash, just... thought if you were there, maybe neutral ground. No project pressure."

Ethan stared. "You want to go to a queer alliance event?"

Caleb met his eyes steadily. "Yeah. Supporting. Learning. No agenda."

Ethan's mind reeled. "Why tell me?"

"Because last time I hid. This time... I'm trying different." Caleb's voice softened. "If you don't want me there, say it. I'll stay away."

Ethan's heart hammered. Alliance events were his safe space. Friends, music, no judgment. Caleb showing up? Risky. But refusal felt like fear talking.

"I can't stop you," Ethan said finally. "It's open. But if you go... boundaries. No talking to me unless I approach."

Caleb nodded. "Understood. Thank you."

They packed in silence. Caleb left first, respectful distance.

Ethan sat alone, pulse thundering.

Text to group.

Ethan: He's coming to alliance mixer tonight. Invited himself. I said boundaries.

Alex: We're on bodyguard duty. Matching outfits?

Mia: This is either brilliant or disaster. Either way, we got you.

Ethan stared at the mirror later, changing into dark jeans and a fitted shirt. Nerves electric. Would Caleb show? Would he behave? Would Ethan weaken?

The party was in the student union ballroom: string lights, thumping bass, rainbow flags everywhere. Friends greeted him with hugs.

"Operation Watchful Eyes," Alex whispered. "He's here already. Corner by drinks. Looking nervous."

Ethan glanced. Caleb stood alone, cup in hand, scanning crowd carefully. Their eyes met across room. Caleb raised cup slightly greeting, not approach then looked away respectfully.

Ethan exhaled. Safe. For now.

Music swelled. Dancing started. Friends pulled him into circle..

But every glance across room found Caleb watching—not staring, just aware. Lingering.

An hour in, a slow song began. Couple after couple paired off.

Caleb stayed put.

Ethan felt pull. Dangerous.

Then twist: a drunk freshman stumbled toward Caleb, slurring something. Caleb steadied him gently, guiding to chair.

Ethan watched, heart twisting.

Caleb looked up—caught Ethan's gaze. Held it a beat longer.

Then turned away.

Ethan's breath caught.

Friends noticed.

Mia whispered. "You okay?"

"No," Ethan admitted. "He's... behaving. And it's making it worse."

The night stretched.

Cliffhanger loomed: slow song ended.

Ethan felt decision coming.

Approach? Or flee?

Heart raced toward collision.

No turning back.